/ 



• 




COCO. HolcLl I s ay it agaixi anil emphatically 
HolcL LI fee . 



£c/-> 1 . Scene 7a,* 









fBtwrrrmbe's' ^tf 



\ 



THE MIDNIGHT WATCH I 

AN ORIGINAL DRAMA, 

IN 

©ne act. 



By JOHN MADDI60N MORTON, Ess. 

Member of the Dramatic Author s' Society, 

Author of Poor Pillicoddy, Going to the Derby, Old Honesty, Boi 

and Cox, Done on both sides, Young England, The King and I, 

My Wife* 8 Second Floor, Wedding Breakfast, The Double 

Bedded Room, The Milliner's Holiday, The Irish Tiger, 

Who's the Composer, Who do they take me for, 'the Attic 

Story, Brother Ben, Who's my Husband, 

Thumping Legacy, fyc. 



THE OJiLY EDITION CORRECTLY MARKED, BY PERMISSION, 
PROM THE PROMPTER'S BOOK. 

To which is added, 

DESCRIPTION OF THE COSTUME — CAST OF THE CHARACTERS 

THE WHOLE OF THE STAGE BUSINESS, 
SITUATIONS — ENTRANCES — EXITS — PROPERTIES, AND 
DIRECTIONS* 
'• AS PERFORMED AT THE 

" . 3Ltiix*ttau%lxtiLtvz&. 



FMT5ELLISHED WITH A FINE ENGRAVINC, 
15y Mr. T. Jones, from a Drawing, taken expressly in the Theatre* 



LONDON: 
PUBLISHED BY BUNCOMBE A^D MOON, 

17, HOLBORN BARS. 
<S4g ?3 






DRAMATIS PERSOXiE. 

Pierre Delaroche Mr. J. Johnstone 

Jintoine Duval Mr. H. T. Craven 

Coco Mr. J, Herbert 

Adjutant Mr. Morrison 

First Soldier Mr. Morris 

Second Soldier Mr, Bowen 

Third Soldier Mr. Fredericks 

Labarre Mr Tindell 

Pauline Mi-s Fanny Vining 

Ninelta Miss Saunders 

First produced at the Marylebone Theatre, Oct. 16, 1848. 
Time in Representation — 1 hour. 



COSTUME. 

Pierre, Antoine, Coco, Adjutant, and Soldiers — French 
uniform of the Revolution of 1795. 

Labarre — Knee breech* s, grey stockings, old fashioned coat 
and waistcoat, belt, shoes and buckles. 

Fauline — ShoTt over dress with petticoat, shoos, buckles. 

Ninetta— Red skirt, short soldier's coat, boots, cap, &c. 












THE MIDNIGHT WATCH 



SCENE. 

T he Platform, or Court of a Fo rtres s. Strong iron rai JmZ- 
"r unning across the back of Stupe, ~beyond which is seen 
part of the Town »/ Marseille s at L. h., and the sea, with 
masts ojL fJkippbi g, at R. h, ~~A door at l. h. teadi n^JoZ 
ulteri or of Prison, Ji door at r. h. over which ts written 
3TCanteen. M A door also at 3 jbJ*» p. A bench close to 
Iron railings, at R. Ji. Another bench on the Stave, ^ 
'Over each door* an d hanging about the Scene, are dimly 
li ghted la m ps. 
^P auline, in a coarse prison d res$ r is stated on bench at 
/back, l ooking towards the sea , La barre on the beuch in 
J ront, L.in_ 

Lab, ( Co unting keys on a large bunch at his side. ) Uraph ! 
three — six — nine— a dozen, all but one ! "Why our old 
fortress of Marseilles hasn't had such a pretty sprinkling 
of prisoners under its hospitable roof since I've held the 
honourable post of jailor. Ah, I shall soon have enough of 
them, poor devils ! If what people say is true, that Citizen 
Barras will arrive this very night, with full powers from 
the revolutionary tribunal, to take vengeance on the people 
of Marseilles, for their late revolt. "Well, if he does come, 
he must look out for another jailor, that's all ! The fait 
is, I'm too tender-hearted for my profession— -cooping up a 
parcel of unfortunate devils in dark, narrow dungeons, and 
serving out their allowance of bread and water. Ugh ! 
Then I'm such an old fool as to speak kindly to them. I 
know I ought to be ashamed of myself, but I can't help it. 
( Seei?ig Paulinp, and in a ver y gruff voi££^) Holloa, citizen ! 
(Pa uline pays no attentio n.) Citizen ! ( Sho*iin*in a Lnudf.r 
Voiee T] 

yPau. (r. Starting, and turnin g to Labarre . 1 Sir 

/ Lab, (L.) It's ten o'clock. Come, it's time you were 
locked up. ( Shaking bunch of keys ,) 



6 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 

/Pan, Already? Oh, grant me a few minutes longer. 
r The night breeze from the sea is so welcome — so refresh- 
ing ! 

Lab* Is4t ? Well, then, take a good long sniff at it, 
while I go in, and see your dungeon put in order. ( fipg — 
slops. ) I dare say you think me an execrabie old brute— 
but you see, citizen, when you came here, a month ago, 
with the last batch of Royalist" prisoners, 1 received parti- 
cular orders to keep you close uuder lock ard key. 
sPau. (R.) And those orders you have but too well obeyed. 

Lab Have 1? Theu how does it happen that you're 
walking here now, in the court yard of the fortress? 

J*au. True — true Believe me, I am grateful — very 
grateful ! ( Pressing Labarre's hand .) 

Lab, ( Taking his hand atnuyA That'll do ! (aside.) Poor 
soul ! to think that that butcher, Barras, will lop off that 
pretty head of her's with as little compunction as he'd mow 
down a thistle ! (aloud ) Well, you can stay here for a 
few minutes longer, while I go and put some nice clean 
straw in my dungeon. It shan't be my fault if you ain't 
comfortable. So, good bye, citizen. Au revoir ! 

{ Exit at p riso n rfoor.L. h^ 
v Pau. A month ago ! only a month ! To me it has seemed 

% a life ! Twice only have I been suffered to leave my dun- 

geon — and even. then, X have been alone. Had I been 
permitted even to mingle with my companions in misfor- 
tune, a friendly haad might have pressed mine — a word of 
pity, or of consolation might Lave reached my ear — butno, 
tilone — ever alone ! my fate is unknown — unpitied — un- 
cared for ! And yet once 1 have dared to hope that I am not 
utterly forsaken. That letter, which reached me in so 
strange, so mysterious a manner — it spoke of liberty — 
bade me take courage — to live in hope, till I heard again, 
1 have done so. But now, alas* more than a week has 
elapsed without another word, and 1 again despair ! {Goes 
up.) 

Ninette. ( Without R.H .') Well, I'm sure! This is a 
pretty time of night to come upon business ! You can't see 
my uncle— he's busy — so I 11 take it to the prisoner, my- 
self. 

Enter Ninette, from door of Canteen, r.h^ 
( Seei/io-'PaiilmeJ There she is 1 I wonder what the young 
Woman can have done, to get herself into prison ? She 
doesn't look like a conspirator, or a Royalist nobleman, in 
disguise! ( Reading address on parceL ) ** For the Citizer 
Pauline— Prisoner in the Fortress. ,, What's this in the 



THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 7 

corner ? " Worsteds for tapestry work.'* Is that all? I'll 
give it her at once. Stay, though — uncle Labarre won't 
allow anything to be delivered to a prisoner, without being 
first examined — so I'll just ( Jiboul to open 'parce l.) — no, 
I won't— I scorn the action—so I'll put it in my pocket 
till uncle comes back. I wonder if she'd like a little of my 
conversation? I'll try. ( aloud, ) Citizen ! 
^Pau. ( Without se ein g Ninett e. ) Yes — 1 am ready to re- 
*tum to my dungeon, 

A'm, Are you ? "Well, that's more than I ever heard a 
prisouer say before. However, T don't happen to be either 
a jailor or a turnkey. 1 leave all that sort of work to uncle. 

^ttiu (L.) Tour uncle ? 
' vVt?i.(R.) Yes — Citizen Jean Jacques Labarre — who, on 
his appointment as head jailor to this important establish- 
ment, paid me the compliment of requesting me to do the 
honours of bis new abode — and a preity abode it is, 
sJPau. The daily sight of so many of your suffering fellow 
'^creatures, most indeed distress you. 

•ATm. Bless you, I've nothing to with my suffering fellow 
creatures. This fortress— as perhaps you know — answers 
the double purpose of a prison and a barrack, and I keep fche 
canteen, ( Pointing* ) Such a time I have of it, too ! Artil- 
lery, Engineers, Sappers and Miners, Grenadiers, and 
Men of the Line, all plaguing and worrying me at the 
same time— and, to make it still more agreeable, the day 
before yesterday, in came a score or two of conscripts and 
volunteers, besides a detachment of invalids, from the army 
of the Republic in Holland. Such melancholy looking ob- 
jects ! not half a dozen out of the lot with the regulation 
number of arms and legs. And they didn't seem to care 
about it, either — but talked of the glory of suffering for their 
country. Glory, indeed ! Catch me losing a leg in defence 
of my country ! 

J*nu, And yet, what woman wouldn't be the wife of a 
/nero ? 

Nin. Ah, but consider the advantages ! Look at the 
chancesin favour of her becoming a widow ! Reallv, citizen, 
to one with your martial ideas, I should think that tapestry 
work must be rather an insipid sort of employment. 

-Pan* It is the only one I have. 

JV*in. Ah, I used to be a dab at it myself once ! There 
wasn't a gi rl in the whole school could turn outsuch poodle 
do^s ar.d hrigands — at least so my old governess, Madamo 
Dumotit, used to say. 
/Pun. {Slatting.; Madame Duinont ! 



• 



S 



8 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH, 

JVYn. Yes — tbaproprieor ofoneofthe most respectable 
seminaries for young la ies in ail Paris, 

^Pau % Can it be pcssible? Then we may have been 
^Schoolfellows — we may, perhaps, have shared the same 

games, the same studies 

Nitt. The same bread and butter. 

Pau. And now that I look upon those features again 

• ( Hurriedly seizing Ninette's hand*) Your name— your 
name ? 

A T i"n, Ninette Leblanc ! 

J*au, Ninette ! And have you forgotten your old play- 
mate—your earliest, your best friend P 

Kin* {Eagerly looking in Pauline's face, and putting bac k 
the hair from her forehead. ) Pauline ? (Pauline opens her 
arms — Ni nette rushes into thtm. • Oh, can it be? Yes — 
yes, it is ! Pauline— dear, clear Pauline ! { Embracing her 
again* ) Oh, I feel so happy 1 I mean, F feel so miserable, 
I don't exactly know how I feel, ( Sobbing andlaughine-*) 

sPau. Ah, Ninette, those were happy days— -all joy and 
happiness — no care, no pain 

yin. Except an occasional rap from Madame Dumont's 
knuckles. How hard they were, to be sure. But, Pau- 
line — poor dear Pauline— what can vou have dune to get 
into this dreadful place ? how could you contrive to put 
your foot in it ? 
^Pau. Ah, Ninette! mine is a sad melancholy story. 

Nin. I'm delighted to hear it ! 1 doat upon sad melan- 
choly stories — so begin— I'm all impatience 

Jfau* Then listen. I am the daughter of a soldier 

Nin. An officer, of course .' 

Pau, No — a simple private soldier — by name, Pierre 
Dubois, When my father, now ten years since, received 
orders to join his regiment, then serving abroad, he placed 
me under the care of Madame Dumont. to whom, it appears, 
he was distantly related. How she fulfilled her charge I 
need not tell you, who, during some portion of the period 
that I was domesticated with her, were a daily witness of 
her love for me, her affectionate anxiety, her tender- 
ness 

Nin. (J side. ) Knuckles excepted. 

Pau. Ninette, she was my second mother, and how did I 
repay her love? By cruel, heartless ingratitude! 

Nin. I won't believe it ! 

Pau. Alas, 'tis too true. Shortly after you left the roof 
of Madame Dumont, the sister of the young Count de 
Merville \\a3 placed under her care. The visits of the 



y 



THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 9 

Count to his sister were frequent— almost daily, and as we 
were rarely apart, I soon discovered a kindness, a tender- 
ness in his manner towards me, that I at first ascribed to 
gratitude, for the love I bore bis bister, but it soon became 
too marked to be mistaken. Oh, Ninette 

Nin* That'll do— I see it all. Oh, that love— that 
love ! There never was a bit of mischief yet, that that 
good-for-nothing little rascal wasn't at the bottom of it, 

/Pau. I could not remain insensible to his passion, and I 
^returned it with all the strength of my young heart's first 
affection, but my dream of happiness was soon dispelled. 
The horrors of the revolution had already commenced, and 
the very night on which I pledged my faith to him I loved, 
ushered in the fatal ]0th. of August, De Merville, a devoted 
royalist, was one of the faithful few, who, on that fearful 
day, rallied for the last time round their sovereign, but 
their efforts were vain — the doom of royalty was sealed, and 
its brave defenders fell victims to the infuriated rabble. 
De Merville, by a miracle, escaped, and nought refuge under 
our roof. I entreated, implored him to fly, while there was 
yet time, for I knew the bloodhounds would soon be on his 
track — he refused, unless I consented to accompany him. 
Oh, the fearful struggle of that moment ! I could not see 
him die, and we fled together. 

Nin. Well, it may be a shocking thing to say, but I think 
the chances are 1 should have done exactly the same 
thing. 

,Pau. Yes, Ninette, I forsook all — I forgot all — even my 
ypoor dear father ! 

Nm. Ah, that was the worst part of the business. Have 
you had no tidings of him ? 

.Pali, Yes — I learnt that a few months afterwards he re- 
>furned with his regiment to France, and I also learnt that 
r in the agony of his despair, the blessing- he had reserved for 
his child was turned into a curse ! ( Shuddering .) 

Nin. Don't believe it, Pauline— a father can't do it — I 
defy him ! And you did not see him ? 

'aw. No — for they told me that, weighed down by grief 
fnd shame, he again left France, and joined the republican 
troops in Holland under another name. 

Nin Holland ? Then, perhaps, some of the invalids who 
have just been sent home from the army, will be able to 
give us tidings of him, I'll enquire. 
sPau, Thanks, dear Ninette! 
s Nin. But now you haven t told me how it happens that 
you are a prisoner. 



.^Pan 






10 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 

aw. A few words will explain. After our flight from 

the neigh- 
bourhood—at length we spt out for the frontier, but ere we 
could reach it, De Merville was recognized, arrested, and 
condemned to death. I saved his life by giving him liberty 
at the sacrifice of my own, 

Nitu Then if he's anything of a gentleman, he'll lose no 
time in returning the compliment. 

yPau % No, Ninette — I have now lost all hope, and care 
xnot how soon death ends my sufferings. 

JVYn. Death indeed ! Nonsense! Friends often spring 
up when we least expect them, and see, some one has been 
gallant enough to send you a quantity of skeins of worsted 
for your tapestry. There — all the colours of the rainbow — 
look ! ( Showing parce l.) 

J*au. Ha! Give it to me. (Snatching it eagerly from 

inette's hand. Aside .) 'Twas by this means that letter 
came to me. Oh, should there be — ( O pening the worsted .) 
Yes— a paper ! ( Greatly agitate d.) 

JVm. Why, what's the matter? 
an. N-othing. I feared we might be observed — that's 

;n. 

Yin. True. I'll just look out if uncle Labarre is 
comirjg. (Exit L. H. D. 

Pau. (Hastily runs (.q dnn r of Canteen, and re nds the letter 
Ml the light of the lamp, r. h. ) Ah, there are hopes of 
^saving me. (R eading with difficult y) lt At midnight an 
effort will be made to save you — { She raises her hands in 
thankfulness ^ — but in order to ensure success, it will be 
necessary that the sentinel entrusted with the midnight 

watch should be" 

Re-enter Ninette, running } l, h. d_. 

JW?i. Uncle's coming ! 

l*jiu. ( Hastily concealing letter. A side, ) "What's to be 
d^ne ? I must know the contents of this paper ere I return 
:o my dungeon. ( Looking at Ninette .) Shall I trust her? 
No, I dare not. Ah, there is yet a hope. ( aloud. ) Ninette, 
it had been better that we had not met, for we must now 
part. 

JVm. Don't you be too sure of that. Hush ! ( Holding 
up her linger to Pauli ne. ) 

E nter LARARRE f flf L. H. D, 

Lab. ( l.) Now, citizen, it's time to turn in! 
Jfin. Well, you needn't speak so savagely to the poor 
young woman. 

Lab* Savagely? 1 didn't. 



THE MIDNrOHT WATCH. 11 

Nin, Yes, you did — like a great big bear. You might 
spare her feelings a little for my sake, seeing that we 
were sehoolfek>ws. { Pretend ing- to sob A 

Lab. Schoolfellows ? Well, there— don't cry f 

Nin. Ah, uncle Labarre, I wouldn't be such a coward as 
you are for a trifle. AHn/irr^l 

Lab. A coward! Me? V\JV^U 1 

Nin. Yes. You know very well that if you felt ever so 
kindly towards a prisoner you wouldn't dare to shew it. 

Lab. Wouldn't I! 

Win* No. Though you are head jailor, you're afraid to 
do as you like. You'd no more dare let that young woman 
have a little bit of supper with us to-night, than you'd pull 
citizen Robespierre's nose. (P auline goes up a Little .) 

Lab. I tell you I would ! 

Nin. Not you, indeed ! You're going to lock her up now 
because you're obliged to doit, and if I was to say to you, 
uncle Labarre, I dare you to let her stop out for an hour or 
two longer, you'd say 

Lab. I'd say, I'll be damned if I won't I And so I will. 
She shall have a bit of supper with us, and what's more, she 
shall come back here, and take as many sniffs of the sea 
breeze as she likes. Now, Madame Ninette, I think 
you've made yourself look rather ridiculous. Ha, ha ! 

Nin. (a^side. to Paulina ) I've done it! (Drum heard 
mthoilt, h, ff t ) What's that P 

Lab. You ought to know. It's to call the soldiers into 
barracks, and post the sentries for the night. 

Paw, (Wd^) Ha! (a number g^ Soldie rs cross th e Stage 
s'from r,. /n r, — 5 pme on the other side of th e jrnn raiLings, 
and go off. 3 e. r. h. — t hen Pierre Delaroche comes iiij^ 
u.E L. l ooking pale and naggar d, and in the uniform of qZ - 
Z renadieroftlie republican arm y.) 

Lab. (at l. H. r.) Now then — come along! (Hauline^ 
follows, and finds herself fa ce to face with Pierre . ) 

sPau. [ W ith a slight screa m ] Merciful heaven I [ Gazing^ 
•i ntently 0/1 Pierre's , for*-] 

Pierre, (a stonished. } What' 3 the young woman staring 
at ? (Crosses to R. h.) 

~au. ( Watching him— aside A 'lis he— my father! 
"about to rusk after him.) 

Lab, [Impatiently ) Now then, are you coming", or not ? 

~au. Yes, yes! ( aside?} 'Tis he— 'tis he! (EqJJjmS- 
_abarre T keeping her eyes fixed on Pierre — h e turns and loo faL— 
at her. W h&n Pauline has zone out y Pierre *»»»»* n* jf - 
striuk with a sudden vague feeling, and^s about to folLotg 









12 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 

Pauline^ but stops T s hakes his ^ud^ as if & ami sting the 
~feel*nglhat_had possessed him , and goes slowly out r. h . 
Canteen *) 

Nin. { Who has been wa'r.h jn^ Fp n1l ' n " ) Weli, I Dever 
saw a woman stare at one of the opposhe sex in stich a way 
as that before ! And he's not a remarkab y fine specimen, 
either — nor half so handsome as that young volunteer, An- 
toine Duval ! Before Ziejoined the garrison I only had one 
sweetheart— that poor little silly good-tempered fellow, 
Coco — but now, unless I'm very much mistaken, I've got 
two strings to my bow. ( Loud knockin g of glasses on table 
heard from Canteen, with cries o f t; Ma 5 amselle Ninette ! 
l/Vlne 1 wine! wine!") Coming ! coming, directly I Ah, 
there's no customer like a soldier, after all. Such is the 
unlimited confidence of his noble nature, that when he 
calls for wine, and you happen to be out of it, you may 
safely take him anything else — he swallows it all ! ( Re~ 
newed cr ies from Canteen .) Coming — coming ! 

{ Runs into Cantee n* 

Drum h eard . E nter from door 3 e. r. h. the Adjuta nt, 

' fbltovoedThv Antoine, Coco r and Soldjers f e quippedJ juL 

May. 

Adj, (l. h.) Fall in, my men ! ( Spldiers fall into line^ — 
the Adj utant looks /fy^n h.n.p.) Keep the line, third man \ 
( To Coco .) 

Coco* ( Saluting the A d jutant.) Beg pardon, Lieutenant 
—but if you'll be good enough to look a little moreparti- 
cularly, you'll observe that I labour under eonsiderable 
difficulty in keeping the line, as you call it, on account of 
my protuberance, (Lavinsr his hand on his stomach . ) 

Sorters. Ha! ha ! ha ! 

Adj. Silence in the rants ! Now, attention ! 

Coco. Beg pardon, Lieutenant, but 

Adj. What's the matter now, sir ? 

Coco. The matter is, Lieutenant, that I wish—humbly, 
but at the same time energetically — to protest against my 
being invariably placed between two of the tallest men in 
the regiment — because, you see, not being naturally en- 
dowed with particularly Herculean proportions, it makes me 
look more insignificant, if possible, than 1 really am ! 

Adj. Silence, sir ! 

Coco. Well, but Lieutenant 

Jldj. Silence ! ( Sfampi nsr his foot anzrilv ~Cs)w x ynuch 
alarmed, lets the butt end of his musket Jail on his foo t.) 
Once more, attention — while"! 'appoint the different watches 
for the night. (Coco sneezes very loud) Silence! ( Opens 






THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 13 

po per and ff.nds.\ Number one — the ten o'clock watch on 
the Western rampart — Philippe Dupont ! 

Soldier. Here ! 

Coco, (aside, ) If I can only contrive to get the midnight 
watch, I shaTTbe able to have a little agreeable chat with 
Mademoiselle Ninette, out of her garret window ! 

Adj. Number two — eleven o'clock, Jacquot Coco ! ( ICoco 
does not o,nswer, ) Three hoars extra drill to-morrow for 
Jacquot Coco, for being absent. 

Coco. ( V A ery guicfyv . ) I'm not absent — that is, physically 
—mentally, perhaps I was slightly so. 

Jldj, Indeed! Ihen twelve hours solitary confinement 
for the same individual, for not answering when called. 

Coco, But I did answer ! t said 4 here !' I distinctly 
said * here !' I appeal to my friend, here — didn't you 
hear my • here V (Di gging the Soldier on his right handin__ 
the side .) 

Adj. Number three — the midnight watch 

Ant, ( Taking a sten or two forward, and saluting. } If 
it's allowable, Lieutenant, I've taken a iort of fancy to 
the midnight watch myself. 

Coco. Oh, I dare say, too ! 

Jldj. ( Xo Antoine .) No observations, youBg man. 

Coco. Decidedly not ! 

Ant. It is but a trifling favour, Lieutenant, after all — 
and— — 

Adj. Silence, sir ! 

Coco. Silence, sir ! (A n tome returns to the rank .} 

Adj. Number three— the midnight watch on the Eastern 
rampart— Pierre Delaroche .' ( J^n qnpwerA Where is 
Pierre ? 

Coco. Absent without leave ! So put him down for a 
slight quantity of extra drill, and a trifle of solitary con- 
finement. 

Ant* No, Lieutenant — Pierre has just stepped up to the 
Commandant, with the surgeon's report of the invalids. 

Adj. 'lis well. Numbers four and five — one and two 
o'clock— Jerome and Laval ! 

Tioo Soldiers. Here ! 

Adj. Number six — three o'clock — Antoine Duval ! 

Ant* ( a&itlp.A Three o'clock ! 'twill be too late ! 

Adj. And now, my men, be more than usually vigilant. 
Remember we have Royalist prisoners here— and Citizen 
1 Barras, who arrives to-night, will not thank us if w r e let one 
of his victims escape. Remember ! 

( E xit R.u.— the Soldiers saluting him . The Soldiers pile_ 
their arms u.b» r. h.) 



14 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH, 

1st. Sold. (R. To Antoine.) Why how now, Master 
Volunteer — you seem quite cut up about this midnight 
watch. 

Ant. (c.) It's very foolish of me — but I confess 1 am 
annoyed. I wished to have it — particularly. 

Coco, (l.) So did I, if you come to that ! I'd ha?e given 
all I have in the world for k — to be sure that isn't much — 
but a man can only give what he's got, and|I fi don't happen 
to have anything! But never mind, young man — bear it 
like a philosopher — like me! 
Ant. Pshaw— fool ! 

Coco. Fool ? Did you apply that observation to me, sir? 
Jint. Yes — to you, or any man, under the circumstances. 
Coco. Oh ! if you'd say it to any man — of course it can't 
be personal ! 

Soldiers. Here's Pierre ! 

Enter Pierre Delaroche t r. h. 
Well, Pierre ? (The Soldiers crowd round him — shaking 
handsivith him,) 

Caco It does a man's heart good to feel his hand in the 
grasp of a hero ( Giving his hand to Pierr e.) 

Pierre, (L. c) Thanks, comrades ! ( Squeezes Coco 's 
hand T who writhes under the operation. ) Brave news from 
Holland, my lads I The .Republic has gamed another 
victory • 

Soldiers, Huzza — long live the Republic ! 
Pierre. And to think that I wasn't in the thick of it. It's 
the first bit of ill luck I'vehad. 

Coco. fd£i&.] He calls it ill luck— when it must be 
obvious to the meanest capacity that it's quite the reverse, 
[fl/owd.] And do you really mean seriously to affirm that >ou 
wish you had been in the thick of it, as you call it ? 
Pierre, Of couise I do. What an absurd idea ! 
Coco, Well, it certainly is— absurd to a degree. You 
don't seem to be aware that if you had been there, your 
head might have been blown off to a very considerable 
distance from your body. 

Pierre. Ha, ha — that's a trifle to us old soldiers, I've 
had my head blown offa dozen times 1 

Coco. Oh, go along! Once or twice you may — but a 
dozen times — lor! 

Pierre. But, comrades, this isn't the only news I've got. 
Citizen Barras is expected in Marseilles to night, and— 
jVn a loin px tone. "\ — they're putting up the guillotine in the 
market place now, that everything may be ready for him tc 
begin his precious work to-morrow morning. 



TH^ MIDNIGHT WATCH. 15 

Ant. Of course you'll lend him a willing hand, Pierre 
Delaroche — we all know your love for the proscribed and 
fallen nobility of France. ( With ill concealed ffltter nfiSS -) 

Pierre. ( Furiously . ) I hate them ! 

Coco, <Wl\<> isst^\dincr near him— skips hastily away.)- 
Good gracious ! And what cause can you possibly have ? 

Pierre. What cause ? True. Ha, ha, ha ! (L^u^hjn^ 
bitterly. ) 

Coco, {aside ) If that's meant for a laugh, it decidedly 
is not the real thing. 

Pierre. But let this pass. However, let me tell you, 
young man— ( Tn Antojne .1 — that Pierre Delaroche is a 
soldier, but no butcher. Killing one's enemy on the field of 
battle is agreeable enough 

Coco, ( aside.) I should think it must be— especially for 
the enemy. 

Pierre J (c.) But murder in cold blood 

Ant. ( anriivi^sly . r. c.) Andyet,ifyou were to discover 
one of our prisoners, man or woman, attempting to es- 
cape 

Pterre. I'd send a brace of bullets through that prisoner's 
body, man or woman — wouldn't you ? ( Tn Antoine .) 

Ant. Why — yes — of course. 

Coco. So would I, if I could only aim straight enouph, 
which I think is slightly doubtful. I remember once shoot- 
ing forty-seven times, one after the other, at a barn door, 
ten paces off, and I never hit it once. 

Pierre* But tell me — I met the adjutant jnst now — I sup 
pose, as usual, Pve the luck to be on duty to-night ? 

Ant. Yes, Pierre — yours is number three. 

Pierre. Number three ? Let me see. That must be the 
midnight watch. Dreary work enough ! ( Shrugging his 
st holders.) 

Ant. Especially for an invalid, like you. The health of 
a brave veteran ought to be more cared for. 

Coco. Decidedly it ought. ( To Pierre. ) How are you off 
for flannel ? 

Ant. I'll tell you what, Pierre— a thought strikes me, 
I'm young and hearty — suppose we make an exchange ? 
My watch is not till three o'clock, and you can have your 
nap in comfort before that. 

Coco. (. Easterly to Pipit p^ Don't think of it, my brave 
Pierre — my gallant Pierre ! And you, young man — ( To 
ftntoine.i — would you have the heart to turn out this dila- 
pidated veteran at three o clock in the morning? the in- 
hospitable hour of three ? Fie ! fie ! Where's your love 



eleven — the sweet tranquil hour of eleven, with the sun and 
moon rising in all their glory, and before the cats cc 
out. 

Pierre. Ha, ha, ha ! 'Pon my word, you're both vastly 
considerate. But come, come, young gentlemen, you can't 
deceive an old soldier like me, so out with the truth at 
once. 

Ant. I will — and this is it. You see, Pierre — ( Assuming 
a modest manner . ) — the head jailor here — Labarre, I think 
they call him — has got a niece, and that niece is very 
pretty 

Coco. Pretty 1 Lovely ! Oh, such long flowing auburn 
eyes — such beautiful soft blue hair ! Wo, 1 mean 

Pierre. Pshaw ! One at a time. 

Jlnt. Well, although I've only joined the garrison three 
or four days, I've already taken a fancy to the girl, and I 
think she's somewhat partial to me. 

Coco. No such thing! You're flattering yourself to an 
extent that's quite lamentable. No, Pierre — Mademoiselle 
Ninette has distinguished me, I haven't looked at her in 
this way for nothing. ( Winking .) I appeal to you, Pierre. 
Do you think I could look at any woman in this wav for 
nothing ? [ Winkinsr at Pierre . 1 

Ant. Pshaw ! In a word, she has promised to let me 
speak to her at midnight. 

Coco. [ Faints on Pierre's shoulder .] "Where — where f 

Ant. At her chamber window, which, as you know, over- 
looks the Eastern rampart, and I don't see^f La ying his 
hand n^ Pierre's shoulder .] — that a man need prove the 
worse soldier for .wiling away a dull hour's duty by a little 
harmless chat with a pretty girl, eh, Pierre ? 

Pierre. Not he — or I should have been drummed out cf 
every regiment I ever was in, I always adored the sex. 

Coco. I'll be bound you did ! [ Poking Pierre in th e 
side. I 
^Pierre. Yes, and the sex adored me. Ha, ha! 

Coco. Of course they did. No — that is — ^[ Logking- in 
Pierrp^ far.p . | But I dare say you've considerably altered 
for the worse, 

Pierre. And as I was a lover once my p elf, why I won't 
stand in the way of your billing and cooing, so give me 
your hand. [Shaking? Antoine's hand .] It's a bargain — the 
midnight watch is yours. 

Ant. Thanks — a thousand thanks ! [To_Cooo.] You see 



THE MIDNIGHT WATCH^ 17 

comrade, I've got theluck of it — but, never mind — u bear it 
like a philosopher" — ha. ha ! 

Cooo. Psha ! fool 1 \ V t ery q uickly, ) It isn't personal — I'd 
>ay it to any man, under the circumstances ! 

Kilter Corporal, and three Soldiers, 3 E. r.H, 

Corporal, Number one ! 

1st. Sold. Here ! f Takes his musket, and exit with Cor- 
poral and Soldiers, u. e"7l. h» Then they are seen to re- 
enter on the other side of 1 the, iron railings, and the ceremony 
of pLacin^The (ruard is prone through* The Sentinel begins 
his march backwards ana forwards, remaining some time out 
of sipht of the audience at each turn.] 

Pierre. Now then, comrades, suppose we pay our respects 
to the canteen ? ( 2]o_Antoine ) When the midnight watch 
is called, all you haveto clo is to take your musket and follow 
the Corporal — he'll be none the wiser. But, remember — 
don't let your love making prevent your keeping your eye 
on the prison yonder. 

Ant. Let me alone for that. Besides, 1 hear there are 
not many prisoners, and I'm a match for a score of Royalist 
nobles at anytime. 

Pierre. Yes — but there's a woman among them. 

Ant. ( With affected surprise.) Indeed ! 

Pierre.' Yes, the Countess. The Countess de Merville, 
I thinkthey call her, 1 saw her just now — looking so ill, 
and woe-begone, poor thing ! Labarre telis me she's here 
for having aided the escape of a condemned noble. Well, 
if people choose to play at such a game as that, they must 
take the consequences. 

Ant. True — true! And now I'll go and drain a bumper 
to the health of the pretty Ninette. Come, comrades ! 

[ Exit into Canteen r. h. T he Soldiers follow with their 
muskets, except Coco.) 

Coco. ( Tapping Pierre on the shoulder. \ I say, Pierre — 
my dear Pierre— touching this midnight watch — if— I say, 
t/you should alter your mind in my favour — why — I don't 
mind — as far as five francs go 

Pierre. ( Furiously .) What— offer money to a soldier ! 

Coco. Don't put yourself in<o such a frightful state of 
excitement — I wasn't going to offer you the money. I 
meant to owe it you ! 

Pierre* Get out ! ( T hreatening Coco f who starts pom , 
hiin jmd runs into Canteen. R. H.) So one more campaign 
finished — and here I am once more in garrison agaiu ! Wei), 
it's no fault of mine that I'm come back. 1 couldn't do 
more than I have done to get a friendly bullet throughthis 



18 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH, 

old head— but, somehow or other, there wasn't one could 
hit the mark. Often, during our long and toilsome marches 
back to France, my comrades have said to me, << Cheer up, 
Pierre — cheer up — every hour brings us nearer to our 
homes, our wives, our children !" and I could see that that 
one thought gave strength to the weak, health to the sick, 
and patience to the suffering ! I once felt as they did I 
Yes — /returned to France after years of absence— / felt 
neither fatigue, thirst, nor hunger — for then /had a home, 
a wife, a child! And what did I find ? My wife dead, 

and my child Oh, Pauline — Pauline! ( Hiding; his face 

J2 his jgafeJ But, pshaw ! this is unworthy of me. I 
have no child — she has abandoned me — disgraced me ! Ha 
— who have we here ? (L ooking off at dooVL. h.) Oh — her 
ladyship, the Countess, again ! I'm not fit for such noble 
company — (Bitterly ) — so, Pierre, to the right about face- 
march ! (R etires to back .} 

Enter Paultxe. hastily^ l. h, d^_ 
an. ( freeing Pierre — stops .) He's here— and alone ! I 
must speak with him — and yet, should he recognize me, I 
could not bear his anger. But, no--he does not, cannot 
know me. He left me a child. Courage — courage ! (To 
Pierre . ) S-ir — sir! 

Pierre, (r. Gruffly* ) Umph !_ ... 
^Pau. (l.) I — wish — to speak with you. 

Pierre. Can't be done, citizen, for two reasons—it's 
against my orders, and against my inclination, 

~fcti. And yet 

Pierre Hark ye. If I'm seen talking to a prisoner, a 
court martial will sentence me to be shot for disobedience 
of orders— and I don't suppose you'd derive any very parti- 
cular gratification from that. 
u. No, no ! 

Pierre* Then, good night ! ( Going ,) 

u. Stay— stay, but for one moment ! [ Pierre still 
moves oiij as if going out* R.I I wish to speak to*you ot' one 
dear to you. 

Pierre, [ Stopping suddenl y ] 'Tis false ! There's no one^ 
dear to me ! 

u. Oh, think — think again ! 

Pierre. Think ? Ha, ha— I. would not think ! I would 
forget, as I have been forgotten -*- 

au. You — speak of .-•*- . - - 

Pierre. \ Hurriedly ,^ 1 speak of her who was once my 
child — of her whom I loved as a fathei alone can love — of 
her, who ha well nigh broken this puor old heart ! 




>*"<* 




Xsoea 



THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 39 

au. Oh, speak not thup ! 

ierre. Ha, ha! Listen, and then say how I should 
speak otherwise, I left her a child — it cost me many a 
bitter pang to part from her — but my regiment was ordered 
abroad, and I went with it. Well, citizen, after nearly ten 
years absence, I returned to France, and found that she 
whom I had left an innocent child, had become — the words 
choke me — my daughter was lost to me ! 
au. No ! 

ierre. Yes. She had fled with a villain — yes, a vil- 

! For what man can be more fitly branded with that 

name, than he who tempts a woman to her ruin ? He was 

a noble, too ! Oh, that I knew his name, that I might 

hunt him through the world ! May the undying curses of a 

father 

\iu. Hush— in mercy ! It was of her I wished to 
speak. 

Pierre, Of her ? my child ? Pauline? You knew her, 
then ? ( Eagerly i and advan cing t.n pyiino * 

~ au. Hash ! (Po ints aside to the Sentinel ? tg/to is seen to 
c ross at ba ck ) 

Pierre, True — ah ! ( Taking ou t his jtipe, and small tin- 
der box, and beginning to sirike a light .} He won't notice 
me, so. Now — (I n a hw, hurrip.d vnicr.A — tell me — whatof 
— you kttow who i mean— not that I care to know — but — 
speak, woman ! Don't you see I'm almost mad with im- 
patience ? 

^Pau, Your child has, indeed, merited your anger. 
s Pierre, She'has — she has — and that's why I never wish 
to hear of her again — never ! Yet, if you will talk of her, 
of course I can't prevent you — I needn't listen, you know. 
Perhaps, if I asked you, you could tell me where she is — 
not that it matters to me. Why should it ? She has long 
since forgotten me ! 

^Pau,. Forgotten you ? Oh, no ! I have seen her weep 
^^at the mention of your name, as if her heart would break ! 
Pierre, Have you ? 
au. And, oh, how often — how earnestly have I heard 
her pray for your forgiveness. 

Pierre, Has she? You're quite sure? ( He. is about to 
approach Pauline — the Sentinel passes again — he again 
b£gins striking a light with g r eat violence — asicL d My for- 
giveness ! ( W ipes a tear awa y. ,1 
sPau, Ah — a tear ? 

Pierre, Was it? Perhaps it might have been a little 
one — a very little one. But, mind — don't let her know you 
have seen me weep 



f 



20 THE MfHNLGHT WATCH. 

^Pau. You forget I am a prisoner. 

Pierre. So I do. What a s Ifish old brute I am, to be 
sure ! Not that my pity will do you much good — for I do 
pity you, though you are—a noble ! like him who tempted 
my poor child to barter her father's love for that of a se- 
ducer I 

^Pau. A seducer! No — on my soul, no! He washer 
husband. 

Pierre. Her husband ! 
^Pau. Yes. 'Tis true she fled — forsook the roof that for 
ten years had been her home — but the same day that wit- 
nessed her flight, beheld Pauline Dubois the wedded wife of 
the Count de Merville ! ( Pierre lifts his "(os np^ards t 
ggg rssstve of his jov and gratitude . ) But, alas, her happi- 
ness was short lived — her husband was arrested, and con- 
demned to die. 
Pierre. Well 

s&axi. Your daughter enabled him to escape 

Pierre % Bravely done — bravely done i 
^yPau. But remained a prisoner in his stead ! 

Pierre, My child — Pauline — in prison ! where t where l . 

aw. Here ! 
Pierre. Here! I must see her— I will see her! Lead 
me to my child — quick, quick ! 
^^PrtM, ( With a convulsive shriek .} Father ! 

Pierre. ( Staggers back, then* with a burst ft/ ffnftfi'gfi > 
Pauline! Ctje is about to pish to her , when the fffmtrnel 
again crosses . P ierre stops. ) My child, my pure, my in- 
nocent child, restored tome ! Standing there before me, 
almost within my touch, and I cannot, dare not fold her to 
my heart, and bless her * 

tew. Bless me P Then 1 can die happy ! 
Pierre. Die P you ? 

*au. Yes, father ; they will not spare the wife of a m- 
le. 

Pierre. But they shall— ( A deep bell is here henrJ [i\ fnll 
q uickly, in the distance, and confuse d sounds, min.^I.pd with 
a cclamations^ are Heard .) 

aw. Hark! (Pi erre rushes to the back^ and lonkf i\ (f 

rly at L. H. Noi se increases, and shouts of " Lo n^ 

3 Citizen Barras T" tfc Jjown with th e Royalists ! ,? 

, y 



Ci Death to fehe traitors !" accompanied by the Revolutiona ri 
air ** Caira /") F ather, w hat mean tnose snouts? 

Pierre. ( Turning— pale with alarm and agitati on.) No- 
thiug, Pauline — nothing, ( aside ) Barras has arrived, and 
the wolves are already howling for their prey. There's not 




sn^u 



THE ftllDNrGHT WATCH. 21 

a moment to be lost ! ( Rushing down .) Pauline, my child, 
you must be saved — but how, how ? 

au. Father, there is hope forme [ Looking around 

er x and speaking in a low ton e.) 
Pierre. Ha ! 

au. An unknown friend — doubtless sent by my hus- 
Bnd, who is now in England — will make an attempt to 
rescue me this very night ! 
PUrre. Heaven bless him 
au. But, in order to enable him to accomplish this with 
certainty, the Sentinel on duty at that hour must be gainod. 
Pierre. 'Tis impossible. Yet, stay — what is the hour ? 

au. Twelve ! 
Pierre. The midnight watch ! *Tis mine —mine ! Pau- 
line, my child, is saved — saved ! Ha, ha, ha ! ( Laughing 
— he suddenly slops. Jiside.) Ah, what have I done ? I've 
consigned it to another. But he shall give it back to me. 
He shall, if I have his life ! 

Labarre, ( Without, l.h. d .) Now, Citizen Pauline, your 
time's up, 
^^Paw. You hear, father ! 

Pierre. I do. One moment ( Taking a rapid and_ 

a nxious look around ) Nov, Pauline, quick — here to my 
heart ! ( Pauline rush?.? to his arm *- He fervently embraces 
her again and again ) Now, go ; be of good cheer. Mid- 
night will soon be here. I will not fail you. I'll be punc- 
tual, and you shall escape. Farewell ! Stay — when you 
are saved — and you shall be saved — it may be some time 
before we meet again— — -( E ffected — asia[ e ) She little thinks 
they'll shoot me, like a dog. Let them ! 1 shall have saved 
my child ! (a loud. ) I say, it may be long before we meet 
again, so leave me something — T care not what — that hand- 
kerchief-drop it on the ground -Pauline drops the 

handkerchief,) Thanks, my child — now r , farewell ! ( Pauline 
o ops out L. h. p. Pi erre watches her for some time — then^ 
picking wo the handkerchi ef, kisses it, and places it in his 
bosom. S uddenly recover ing himself .) Now then to busi* 
ness. ( Hurries to door of Canteen t R. H. and calls in a loud 
voice .) Antoine Daval! 

Enter Antozne, hastily, r, h. _ 
(J f at obse rving hi s entrance.) What shall 1 say ? How 
shall I begin ? 1 m so little used to breaking my word, 
that I shall be puzzled to know how to set about it ! 

Ant, (L. Laying his hand on Pierre's shoulder .) Well, 
Pierre, what now V 

Pierre, (n.) Eh V (Starting— then recovering himself) 



2*2 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH, 

Why, hark ye, Antoine, When you proposed to me jusfc 
now to take this midnight watch off my hands, what did I 
say ? 
Ant. Why, like a sensible fellow you said yes. 
Pierre, Did I ? Well, then, I somehow made a bit of a 
mistake, for I meant to say no. 

Ant, (St arting. ) Pierre, this is rather too serious an 
affair to triiie upon. 

Pierre, The very thing I've been saying to myself ever 
since. A soldier's duty is too serious an affair to trifle 
upon with, and so, Antoine, as we both agree upon the mat- 
ter, why our bargain's at an end—in other words, the mid- 
night watch is mine again. 

Ant. ( Aside. ) Distraction ! (aloud. ) Your reason for 
this strange caprice ? 

Pierre. A very simple one. I was chosen for the duty, 
and that duty I will perform. Now what have you to say to 
that ? 

Ant. This— that I'll not tamely submit to be made the 
laughing stock of my comrades. The midnight watch was 

mine — mine, by your own free gift, and 

Pierre, Quite true, Antoine — it was yours, but now it's 
mine — mine. Yon h^ar I 

Ant, Then you have violated your word. Yes, Pierre 
Delaroche, you have forfeited all claim to the title of a true 
soldier and an honest man. I 

Pierre. Antoine, have a care ! i Graspin°r the handle o f 
his swj jjjjl ) 

Ant, i Smiling disdainfully .) Your sword seems somewhat 
ashamed to come forth — no wonder. It once belonged to a 
man of honour — it may well blush for its new master, 

Pierre. Damnation ! Follow me ! ( Rushing out — tu d' 
denlv stops- As\.dp.) And Pauline — my^ child '! snould I * 
fall - p No, no — it mustn't be— I must gulp it down. 

Ant. How, sir— has your courage deserted with your 
honesty? 

Pierre. ( Making a violent effort to swallow hi* <rgcr* — 
almost choking*. ) it's gone ! 1 thought 'twould choke me. 
but I've done it. (Q uietly seating himself on the bench t nnd 
i nking Olf I hfs pipp.l Vnn «pp vonnpr man.thi«i* Hip^qv 
JHook at it. ( Taking tinder and steel, and striking a light .) 
If I fight with you as to which of us is to do the duty of 
this midnight watch, and you happen to run your sword 
through my body , I not only lose my duty, but my life into 
the bargain — that's why, if it's all the same to you, I'd 
rather perform my duty first, and fight you afterwards. 






THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 23 

Ant. It shall not be ! 

Pierre. Oh, very well — I'll leave you to settle that with 
the corporal of the watch. (Rises.) All I know is, that 
when he ca Is out number three, I shall call out 4 ' Here !" 
( Crosses ton. ) \ VU. ,,4*—^ 

Ant. Confusion ! AfrVUflT/ 

Pierre. Ha, ha, ha ! You didn't think of that. Well, 
adieu, comrade— and as to our little affair, if you should 
happen to get up to-morrow morning with as strong an 
appetite f r cold steel as you've got now, I'm your man. 
You understand ? ( To uching the hilt of his sioortL} So fare- 
well, (aside,) Now, Pauline, the sentinel is gained, and you 
are saved! ( Going out t stovs, turns, and looks at Anto'.ne, 
s hrugs his shoulders and goes out humming a tune, n .) 

* AnU What is to be done ? The midnight watch must be 
mine at any sacrifice. Perhaps the sleeping draught I 
procured may be turned to some account. ( Throws himself 
on the bench .) 

Loud laiTFht cr heard without^ r. h. Enter Coco, from 
Canteen, followed by Sold i^,, 

Coco. ( Slightly tip si.) Weil, 1 confess I don't see any- 
thing to laugh at. Why should I not become Commander- 
in-chief, or Lord High Admiral, or Lord High Chancellor, 
or Lord High anything else that 1 think proper? What 
is it that raises a man above his fellows P It's mind — 
( Touching his head. ) — not matter, { Hitting his stomach.) 
I'll just ask Antoine's opinion. (To Antome.) Will you 

oblige me by Holloa! what's the matter with you? 

You convey to me the notion of a man who has eaten 
something that doesn't sit comfortably on his stomach. Just 
now you were in tip top spirits— I mighfc say, the very tip 
toppest spirits, and now you are what we call decidedly 
" tout au contrairel ,> 

Ant. (c,) And well I may be. I've been unfairly 
treated— ill used ! 

Coco, (l ) Good gracious! Nobody's been thumping 
you ? 

Ant. Pshaw ! Pierre Delaroche has broken faith with 
me. You all heard his promise ? 

Soldiers. We did ! 

Coco. Then you're not to have the midnight watch after 

all? 

Ant. No— nor you either. He takes the post himself. 

Coco. Then, at any rate, we shan't be able to laugh at 
one another. 

nt. True, But we may yet be able to turn the laugh 



24 THE MIDNIGHT A'A TCH 

upon him, just to teach him to know his own min* a little 
hetterforthe future. What say you, comrades — have you a 
blind to help me? 

Soldiers. Aye, aye ! 

Ant. Then harkye. f propose to ply our friend Pierre 
with just as much wine as will enable him to mount guard 
under the table. 

Soldiers. Ha, ha ! Capital ! 

Coco. Delicious ! We'll intoxicate him to a frightful 
degree ! 

Ant. That once accomplished, why Coco and I can then 
draw lots for the midnight watch. 

Cooo, If it's the same to you, I'd rather toss up— it's 
more distingue. 

Ant. As you please, comrade. And now, having settled 
our plan of the campaign, it's time to look after the enemy. 
Where's Pierre ? 

Coco. I'll find him. I'll draw him into the ambuscade. 
Oh, how we will laugh at him. Ha, ha, ha ! ( Trying to 
steady himself as he ?oes off into canteen, R n,) 

Ant. Now, house, there ! Wine— wine ! 

Soldiers. Wine — wine — wine ! 

JZnter N inette r fro m Canteen t r. h. 

Kin. What is it— what is it ? 

Ant, A dozen of your best wine, a table to set it on, and 
cups to drink it in. ( Putting his arm round her ^paixt. \ 

JWn. I'm surprised at you, sir ! — (a side to him .) — before 
company, (aloud.) Perhaps some one will be gallant enough 
to assist me. (Soldiers rusk to her.) I don't want the whole ' 
regiment. Come, Antoine. (A ntoine and another Sol dier 
foltoxo Ninette, and re-enter with\ table covered with bottles 
and drinking cuvs .l 

Cnco. ( Wi thout 7 R^) Xow come along ! [ Enters, "pullin g 
in Pierre T joho seems unwilling.. ) 

Pierre' I don't wish to be unsociable, but- 

Soldiers. Sit dcwn, Pierre! Come f Soldiers seat 

t firm fie 1 ™ * ] 

Pierre, [ asia*e. ~\ I needn't drink with them if I do sit 
down. No, no, Pauline -I'll not be tempted! [aloud.] Well, 

I don't mind f Sees that he is about to seat himself next to 

Antoine — moves qioat/, as if going to another $eat.~\ 



Jiiit. { Kismg % ana Laying his nana on ms arm. i Jriern 
though we have had a tew words, we needn't be enemies. 

Pierre. Umph ! 

Ant. I spoke hastily — I did you wrong, and I ask your 
pardon, f Holding out his hand*"] Forgive me 






1 a a jo. iu :•. lan k »»Aiotl« Z*> 

f 

Pierre. With all my heart, Antoine. There! (Putting 
his hand in that of Antoine.] 

Coco, i Standing between them y and pressin g their joined 
hands.] Hless you ! 

* Ant. Come, Pierre — a cup of wine to our reconciliation. 
Pierre. [ Irresolutely.] No, no! 

Ant. Then I shall believe you're angry with me still. 
Pierre. Well, then, just one. 
Coco* Perhaps you'll allow me to join you ? 
Soldiers. All—all! 

Ant. Yes, yes — bumpers all round ! f Pierre and Antoine 
drink, ha nd in h ytf — al 1 j ni n »nd hurrah ( ] Now fill again, 
T^Tvs !''~f c/l tilU Here's " Long life to the Republic!" 
[ njl drink and /""•»•'>& ] Come, Pierre, 

Coco Perhaps he didn't hear the sentiment. Permit me 
to repeat the sentiment, f Fills. '] Here's 4< Long life to the 
public !" [Drinks.] Hoo-rah ! [ about to fill Pierre ^. 
glass*] 

~~Pierre. [L aying his hand pntheJopL of his glass.] No 
more. 

Coco. Excuse me, but — 
Pierre. [F iercely .] No more! 

Coco. [Staxling.] Good gracious — don't! You've made 
me feel quite faint. [ Fills and drinks asain. } 

Pierre. Hark ye, comrades. If I drink with you it must 
be in liquor of my own choosing. 
Soldiers. Certainly — certainly ! 

Pierre. Then, Mademoiselle Ninette, a jug of cold water. 

'■[ Exit Ninette. 

Coco. And draw it as strong as you can. [ Aside to. 

Antoine,] What's the use of your letting him drink cold 

water? He may drain the pump dry — it'll never get into 

his head. 

Ant. [a$£de.] Leave thatto me. [ He. rises: aft d west* 
NrnpHf , wh.n re enters with a, juff of iqater . As Ant pinp 
pas sejs Ae hind the table, he hastily takes a small phial, or 
paper, from his pockety f^A pours it into the jug % whic7i'yt\usi_ 
~oe distinc tly visible tn th e audience.] Th"e*fi?, comrade. 
[ P*rtftittffjii<r hpfmre Pipp-p. Aside. ] We've no objection to 
his drinking it in water. It isn't the spirit a man drinks 

it in, but the splrithe drinks -it-with; — '— ' 

Pierre. Thanks! "Now, lads, have with you! [ Titling 
ItijULup.) Here's "Long life to our glorious Republic V 9 
( D rinks it off. ) 

Coco. ( WtfftrMnv Pierrp pi stupid amazement— t hentakinsr 
Jhe cup which Pierre puts down* looks into it, and turnsit 
upside down. _Aside.) He's a great creature ! 



26 THE MIDNrGHT WATCH. 

Ant. Now fill again. Here's " to our pretty hostess V 
Coco. (Starting up. and nearly tumbling down .) Our 
lovely hostess — our exquisite hostess! f< ykgtn° , .) Tt Gentle 
Ninett-a !" r Seeing Pierre {tiling his glass, seizes Jus 
hanoL) Don't ! if you drink so mucn water you'll poison 
yourself. ( Pierre and the rest foftfr in. rfr iiikin g N [ pt>try a 
health, who curtseys repeatedly to them^ all.) 

Coco. ( Standing up, and holding on by the table . ) Suppose 
we have a song ? 

M. Aye — aye — aye ! 

Coco. (JJa wing roun d. } I'm sure I feel flattered beyond 
measure. Ahem 1 (Runs partly up the gamut.) 

"Oh, lovely Isabella!" 
I beg pardon— I mean, Ninet-ta. I forget the rest. (Sitting 
down again.) 

Ml. Ha, ha, ha! 

Pierre, (a little afected by the drugged water .) Ha, ha ! 
Moisten your throat, my lad ! Come, push the bottle about! 
Ha, ha ' More water \ (Drinking ) 

Ant. (aside .) So, so — it begins to take effect, (aloud.) 
Mademoiselle Ninette, will you sing us our old favourite ? 

Nin. With all my heart! 

sons.- f Introduce^ 1 " Rataplan plan." 

Win. ( after song. ) Now, gentlemen, it's getting very late, 
so I wish you air a very good night, (Ex^JUUM. 

Pierre. ( Who has shown increased signs of drowsine *^ 
' C starts. ) G-ettingvery late ? 'l'rue, true-— it mnst~be — 

it not midnight yet —no, no ! Come, Pierre, rouse thy sel f. 
Why, how now — what's the matter with me ? ( Puttin g h_is^ 
hand to his hea d.) My head swims, and I feel so drowsy. 
( 4,Ptoine points to him, and rises softly from the table— th e 
S oTnTers ao tne same,) l^shaw T it only requires an effort. 
( Rises— then sinks down in his chair again. ) Here, here — 
( Holding ottt his cup .) — some water. \ Urops the cwp on the 
ground. '] I m better now. I thought the— water— woul<T 
refr esh me. Pauline, my child — I'm coming — ll" 1 — — 
"*"praTs forward on the table. H^re the prison clock is' he ard 
to strike twelve — AnluT ne points to Pierre, and "smi les 
t riumphantly J " — — — 

"Ent er Corporal, and two Soldiers, R. H. 

Corporal. Number three — tne midnight Wafch ! 

Ant. Here ! \ Taking musket . ~\ 

Corporal. March ! 

Ant. (aside ) 'Tismine ! 'tis mine! ( Exit with Corpora?, 

13. e. L. h. All the Soldiers follow, except Pierre Delaroch e 

and Coco — Coco is lying forward on the table^ opposite to 

~Pierre7 



.^HE MIDNIGHT WATCH 27 

Coco.(Sl*ginj&.\ 4i Gentle Ninet — ta!" ( Raisins: his 
head.) Holloa ! tne company gone ? No— there's one gen- 
tleman lefu -J- Laving his hand over the' tabU on Prerre's- 
heacL ) Sir — sir- — will -you oblige me with your private opi- 
nion as to the state of things in general ? She sreeps 1 
wake up, iny-4&ve'! Ninet— ta! Weil, I can take a hint, 
Ma'amselle— I'm poino-^-f Staffering towards {hP^flfA— 
steady ! " Gentle Ninet— ta r ' ( Goes out l.h. 

Pierre, (asleep.) Yes, Pauline, I am here, my child I 
Hush — be cautieus how you step on the old stone work- 
now — drop into my arms — I hav« -^feee — bow, quick — 
through yonder archway— the door is open — one — one 
last embrace I Now, away' She's saved — she's saved! 
{ Waking } and looking in a confused j manner around him.) 
"What's this ? Where am I ? What do "I here, when I 
ihould be — where — where should I be ? (JEndeavo urin g to 
r emember .) I know there's something to be done — but 
what— what is it 1 Wild dreams seem to chase each other 
through my brain — yet I can remember nothing — nothing ! 
( Hides his face in his hands .) Ha — (Su ddenly starting up.) 
—"yes, now— now I remember all ! Pauline — my child — 
tobesaved — by me — at midnight! "Yes, yes! Well, I'm 
ready — besides, there's time enough— there's Ha ! mer- 
ciful heaven — should 1 have slept *r. A/V)iy/> nf voices — «_ 
CTfw> f tiTi JkMtftf i) Ha! (Sta ggers back against the table . 
( ( nur1 ^xif^ n f u Follow — follow f. 1 fyc . heard.) 
T^RARftE hastily rushes nn^ l. H. a s if aboV fn * yn ?ff t h *- 

S cene at baek . 
Stay, Labarre— how loners it to midnight ? 

Lab. Pshaw! midnight has long since past, 

Pierre. Past! No, no —impossible ! And yet— tell me 
what has happened — that shot 

Lab. Was fired at a female prisoner, who attempted to 
escape. 

Pierre. ( With a scream of asromi .) My child— they've 
killed my child! No, not they — 'tis I— I have murdered 
her ! ( Falls on the benc h.) 

The Adjutant comes on . followe d by Soldiers^ in haste and 
c onfuston. r . a. 

Adj. Ricg the alarm bell j Follow, one and all— she 
cannot escape us. Antoine swears his bullet struck her. 

Pie*re. Struck her P Who ? 

Adj. The Countess de Merville! Come, quick — quick! 
( Runs out, followed by the Soldiers^u. E._L. H. Antoine^ 
rt j th$ same fffnr»« n t enters from opposite side — pah, snd hjs m 
dress in disorder^) 



28 THE MIDNTGHT "WATCH. 

Pierre. ( Seeing Antoine. rushes to hirrij seizes him bu the 
f hroat. and drafs him forward . J Villain; traitor 1 mur- 
derer ! > 

Ant. Murderer ? 

Pierre. Aye— but I'll have blood for blood ! ( Seizins: 
his musk et A You have murdered ray child ! 
" Jlnt. tour child ? The Countess de Merville 

Pierre. Aye, Pauline Dubois — she was my daughter. 

Ant. ( Lgyinor his hand on Pierre's arm s ) Hush— (In a 
loud whisper .)— she was my \ufe ! 

Pierre* Your wife ? Then you are 

Ant % The Count de Merville ! ( Pierre droys the ttw s- 

SflC) " 

Pierre. (Eagerly.) But that shot — that shot 

4nl. Did not harm her, my good Dubois. It was the 
signal agreed upon to inform my friends without that she 
had left this place of horrors. A ship is now riding in the 
bay, ready to bear her away to England. One gun from 
the vessel will announce that my Signal has been understood 
— a second, that the ship's boat is making her way to the 
shore — the third, that she is saved. (-/* iji slant sun is 
heard,) 

Pierre fy Ant. ( Grasvinz each other's hands. x One I (Af- 
t er a short pause a second is fired ,) 
'Pierre* Saved — saved ! 

AnL Not yet. The third— the third 

Pierre. (In a loud whisper.) True — true ( A pause y in 

ivhieh their anxiety is manifest .} We must be patient — I'm 
patient! Keep still, old heart I (Bea ting his breas t. ) 
I can hear nothing for your beating against my ribs. They 
must have reached the shore — we shall soon hear the 
(Listening—a long pause i Oh, God— this is agony I 

Ant. Hu?h ! what noise is that ? ( Qistant n \nym^ing 
ol -voices and shouting hear d % g radually increasing. Antoine 
goes to back, and looks off .) Merciful heaven! 

Pierre. Speak — no, don't — I've no strength to hear it ! 
(Sinks on the be nch, with his head on the tabl e.) 

Ant, Lost ! lost 1 The bloodhounds are firing into the 
boat! Hark! [ Mnskqf, shots heard 1 She sinks — and Pau- 
line with it! No, no — she gains the shore, and flies! 
Cowards— devils — forbear — they'll kill her ! 

Pifrre. [ Starting su ddenly.'] Kijl her ! and I her e ? [Sei^ 
zi ng up the musket, and is rushing off y stru?glin» with A n- 
toine, who detains him. The cries without redoublein 



l oudness and ferocity . ^ A piercing scream is heard. an<T ~ 
P auline rustics on*Jrom L, H. A. her ~~ 



hair and dress elisor* 



THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 29 



dered, followed by several oj the li evolutionary Rabble — 
white at the same time a number oj inem ruVh* on aiThe baek, 
a nd bpvi nAo jcale the iron railing s^fa.u\\r.e staggers a?iiL 
falls in/ o Pierre's arms, who, with A'ntoine, protect herj vjUu 
their bodies from the weapons of the Mob. Drums beat 
witho ut — Coco rushes in with paper in one hand, and a very — 
'long sword at his side^/ollowed by Adjutant and Soldiers 1 

Coco. ( Shewing himself in a melo dramatic positon be- 
t\9een Pauline, &c and the Mob, flourishin g V ^Per, ) Hold ! 
1 say it again, and emphatically, hold I The Convention 
is floored and so is Robespierre The Convention has lost 
its head, and so has Robespierre— and if you don't want to 
lose your heads, you'd better stand back, or with this self- 
same weapon, which I now draw — never mind — consider 
it drawn ! 

Lab, Then I may open my prison doors ? 
Coco, Yes, and in my name, and that of France, pro- 
claim liberty to your prisoners ] 

Pierre. Saved ! Saved ! [/forg* Panling in. Ant.nina'a 

arms, a nd r withuplifted hands , blesses them, as the Curtain 
faUs~io slow music] 



DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE 
FALL OF THE CURTAIN. 

Soldiers. Mob, Soldiers. 

Adjutant. Coco. Pauline. Pierre. Antoine. Labarre. 

R. C, L. 






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